


Stand Up, Stand Tall (My Love Is Dangerous)

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Natasha/Darcy Grosse Pointe Blank AU [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: AU, Assassins & Hitmen, F/F, Femslash, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:11:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha's job isn't exactly something conventional, as Darcy discovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More Grosse Pointe Blank AU! Yay!

There’s a coffee place in the centre of town which turns into a cocktail lounge at night (although they still do coffee if you ask), and Natasha and Darcy head there. A black car follows them the entire way, and when Natasha and Darcy get out of Natasha’s car, the black car parks a short distance away and two men in suits and sunglasses get out.

Darcy and Natasha take a seat at one of the tables inside, and the men in suits choose a table near the door. Darcy can feel their eyes on her and Natasha.

“Are those guys following us?” Darcy leans forwards to ask Natasha in a low voice.

Natasha sighs.

“Believe it or not, they think  they’re being subtle,” she says.

“They’re wearing _sunglasses at night_ ,” Darcy points out.

Natasha cracks a slight grin.

“I know.” She adds casually, “For feds, they’re not very good at this.”

“Whoa, hold up,” says Darcy, alarmed. “Feds?”

Natasha makes a rueful face.

“Technically, I’m an assassin for hire,” she says. “Although I’m planning to retire.”

“An assassin for hire,” Darcy echoes, and holds up a hand, halting whatever Natasha is about to say. “Just… give me a minute.”

Natasha obediently goes silent. Darcy shakes her head.

“An assassin,” she repeats again. “Okay, I can see it. But _really?_ ”

“It turns out I’m pretty good at killing people,” says Natasha. “But the thrill’s beginning to pall a little. When that happens, it’s time to get out.”

“Oh,” says Darcy. “Well, that’s… interesting. _Jesus_. Hey, can I get a waitress over here?” she demands loudly. “I need a cocktail, stat!”

The waitress comes over to take their orders. Darcy orders something sweet and highly alcoholic. Natasha just asks for a coffee.

“I can’t believe you became an _assassin_ ,” Darcy complains, slumping in her seat. “And so now the feds are after you?”

Natasha purses her lips. Uh-oh. That’s not a good sign.

“And possibly another assassin,” she admits. “There was an… incident. I’ve got a price on my head. It’s possible that they’re trying to collect.”

Darcy puts her head in her hands.

“And here I was wishing my life was more exciting, oh my God,” she mumbles. “How dumb am I?”

“Sorry,” says Natasha. She doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. “These things happen.”

“These things do _not_ happen!” Darcy declares, raising her head to give Natasha an incredulous stare. “Not to normal people!”

Natasha tilts her head, like yeah, okay.

“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I’ve got a friend watching my back. He’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, well that solves everything,” Darcy notes sarcastically. “And the feds?”

“Will get tired of following me around,  sooner or later,” says Natasha. She leans forward. “So, what have you been doing with yourself?”

Darcy feels like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She surreptitiously pinches herself as the waitress delivers their drinks. Nope, not dreaming.

“Uh, well I’ve actually been working as an assistant to this scientist, Dr Foster,” Darcy says, because what the hell. “She’s an astrophysicist, which is crazy because I am pants at science, but you know, I’m good with administrative stuff, so. It works out. Besides, no one else wanted to take the job, so here I am.”

“It sounds interesting,” says Natasha, her eyes never wavering from Darcy’s.

“Probably not as interesting as being an assassin,” says Darcy. She shakes her head. “Okay, so you’re an assassin. That isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me. I’m probably going to need to drink more of this cocktail before I feel okay about that, but whatever.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Natasha observes.

“Like I said, not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” says Darcy, but doesn’t elaborate, because she does actually have a sense of discretion. Natasha being an assassin is a bit of a shock, and a little disturbing, but it hardly rates more than a three on Darcy’s internal Weirdness Scale. “Besides, you’re thinking of retiring, right?”

Natasha shrugs.

“I’m thinking of going legit,” she agrees. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do with myself.”

“Coast along on all your ill-gotten gains?” Darcy jokes.

“Possibly,” Natasha says with a smile. It soon fades, though, replaced by a pensive look. “I’m not sure how normal people live. It’s going to be a learning experience.”

“Well, if you decide you need, like, tutoring on being a normal human being, you should look me up in New York,” says Darcy, patting her hand. “I’m happy to dispense advice and stuff.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Natasha’s eyes are warm, and Darcy realises with a start that the two of them are flirting. She isn’t sure how to feel about that. Yes, Natasha was her best friend and first love, and part of who Darcy is will always be tangled up with Natasha because of that; but on the other hand, Natasha is a _wanted assassin._

Darcy honestly can’t make up her mind whether she wants Natasha back in her life or not.

Except that she’s still smiling at Natasha, dammit, which probably says a lot.

“I need more booze,” says Darcy, and drinks the rest of her cocktail down in one go.

* * *

By the time that Darcy and Natasha leave the cocktail lounge, the two of them have talked about practically everything that’s happened to them in the last ten years, and Darcy has drunk several more cocktails.

The two feds follow them at a dubiously-discreet distance, and so Darcy blows them a kiss and waves at them. The two men look disconcerted and suspicious.

“It’s probably better to ignore them,” says Natasha, helping Darcy into the front passenger seat. Darcy is a little wobbly in her heels by this point; possibly the last couple of cocktails were a mistake. Darcy does up her seatbelt as Natasha walks around to the driver’s side door and gets in the car.

“Hey,” says Darcy, and smiles at Natasha. “You know, I’m really glad you came to the reunion.”

Natasha looks at her.

“I wasn’t going to, at first,” Natasha admits. “A friend talked me into it.”

“Well, good for them,” says Darcy, as Natasha pulls out of the parking spot and into the street. “You’re pretty much the only reason I decided to go. I was hoping you’d show up, although I was pretty surprised when you actually did.” Darcy winces. “I’m feeling a little guilty now about pouring my wine all over you, so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” says Natasha. “I probably deserved it.”

“Not going to argue with that,” Darcy agrees, “but it was still a pretty terrible thing to do, so I’m sorry.”

“Then I accept your apology,” says Natasha. “Hey, does your dad still live out on Forsyth Street?”

“Oh yeah,” says Darcy. “I’m staying with him at the moment, actually. You should come in and say hi when you drop me off.” Darcy pauses. “That’s what you’re doing, right? Because if you’re dropping me off at my car, I hate to tell you, but I am probably too drunk to drive home.”

“I’m driving you home,” Natasha confirms, sounding vaguely amused.

“Oh,” says Darcy. “Well, good.”

They fall into silence on the drive back to Darcy’s father’s house. Darcy kind of wants to keep talking, but she can’t think of anything else to say, and anyway, the contemplative silence is kind of nice.

She glances at Natasha. Natasha is watching the road, her expression smooth and serene.

She is, Darcy thinks, drop-dead gorgeous.

“You look really nice tonight,” Darcy says, in a non-sequiteur.

“Thank you,” says Natasha, glancing Darcy’s way. “So do you. That blue on you is stunning.”

“You think I’m stunning?” Darcy asks coyly, and Natasha’s eyebrows rise a bit, but so do the corners of her mouth, so Darcy counts that as a win.

“I think that any objective observer would say the same,” says Natasha.

“Yeah, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Darcy argues, and is rewarded with another small amused smile from Natasha.

The car turns into Forsyth Street, and Natasha pulls up in front of Darcy’s childhood home. For a moment Natasha just stares up at it.

“It still looks just the same,” she says quietly. Her tone is almost sentimental.

“Yup,” says Darcy, distinctly unsentimentally. “Now help me out of this car.”

With a slight laugh Natasha gets out of the car, and walks around to Darcy’s door, opening it and helping Darcy out.

Together they walk up to the front door. Darcy doesn’t bother going for her keys; there is no way her Dad hasn’t sat up all night waiting for her to come home, so that he can ask her a million questions about the reunion the moment she walks through the door. Instead, Darcy rings the doorbell, and waits for her Dad to answer it.

Sure enough, the door is opened within thirty seconds.

“Hey Dad,” says Daryc breezily, and beams. “Look who I found at the reunion!”

“Hello, Mr Lewis,” Natasha says, and smiles a wide, practiced smile.

It takes Darcy’s Dad a second to work out who Natasha is, Darcy can totally tell; he’s staring at her with a puzzled little crease between his eyebrows. Then the penny drops, and so does his jaw.

“My God,” he says. “Natasha Romanov!” He stares for a second, then recovers. “Come in, come in!” he says, and ushers them both into the house just as the feds’ car parks itself across the street. Natasha goes with the whole thing, although Darcy is pretty sure she’s feeling a little off-balance.

“Let me get you a drink,” says Darcy’s Dad expansively, before Natasha can say anything. “Whisky? Brandy? I think I have about a fifth of vodka left if you want that.”

“I’m fine,” says Natasha, and she’s still smiling, but she looks a little uncertain.

“You sure?” says Darcy’s Dad.

“Dad,” Darcy sighs, and he gives up trying to convince Natasha to drink something.

“It’s great to see you,” he tells Natasha warmly. “You look… amazing.” He shakes his head, smiling. “It’s funny to see you all grown up. Tell me what have you been doing with yourself? You’ve been the big mystery around here for years. I must say, it’s a relief to see you alive and well.”

“I suppose you could say I’m an independent contractor,” says Natasha, and Darcy coughs loudly to cover her laugh. Natasha doesn’t look at her, but she doesn’t have to; Darcy can sense that she wants Darcy to shut up and play along. Darcy tries to compose herself.

“An independent contractor? Really?” Darcy’s Dad looks surprised and mildly impressed. “In what area?”

“Negotiations,” says Natasha smoothly, and Darcy bites her lip, hard. Watching Natasha lie about her job as an assassin _should not be this funny,_ and probably it’s all the cocktails she had earlier, but God, Darcy is finding this hilarious.

“Well, good for you,” says Darcy’s Dad. He’s still smiling and shaking his head wonderingly, like he can’t believe it’s really Natasha standing in front of him.

Darcy kind of gets the feeling.

Natasha glances at her watch.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I should probably get going,” she says apologetically. “It’s pretty late, and I have a business call to be making tomorrow, and I need to review the briefing notes tonight.”

“Wait, a business call?” Darcy narrows her eyes accusingly, because wasn’t Natasha talking about giving up the whole assassin thing?

“Hopefully the last one before I retire,” Natasha says, meeting her eyes squarely.

“Well, we won’t keep you,” says Darcy’s Dad, oblivious to what’s going on between his daughter and her long-lost BFF. Darcy resists the temptation to roll her eyes.

“Right, sure,” she says. “But um, can I just talk to you outside for a minute?”

“Of course,” says Natasha, so Darcy manoeuvres her outside and shuts the door before her Dad can follow them out.

“This is definitely your last job?” she asks. Natasha looks at her, searching Darcy’s expression.

“If it means this much to you,” she says.

“It does,” says Darcy.

“Then I’ll just do this last job tomorrow, and then I’ll retire,” says Natasha, and smiles a little. “Expect me to visit you a lot in New York.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” says Darcy.

“Well, I should–” Natasha starts, at the same moment as Darcy says, “Can I–”

They both stop, and wait for the other to finish.

“Never mind,” says Darcy. “Hey, I’m in town until the end of the weekend, so you should drop by again sometime. If you want.”

“I’d like that,” says Natasha, smiling.

“Okay,” says Darcy.

They stand there for a moment, a little awkwardly, before Natasha gets in her car and leaves.

Darcy bangs on the front door and yells, “Dad! Let me back in!”

The door immediately opens. Her father is looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Should I ask why you shut the door in my face?”

“I wanted to talk to Natasha alone,” says Darcy, watching the feds’ car start up and drive away in the same direction as Natasha’s car. She waits until it’s gone before she walks back inside.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Darcy’s Dad asks, his voice carefully mild.

Darcy takes a deep breath.

“Um. Not yet?” she tries. “At some point, there might be, but nothing has actually happened yet?”

“I see,” says Darcy’s Dad sagely. “In that case, let’s go drink hot cocoa while you tell me all about the reunion.”

Darcy doesn’t argue. Hot cocoa and a chat with her Dad sounds like a comforting end to an eventful evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I think that's all the loose ends tied up in this chapter, although I've been writing this fic all out of order, so bear with me if there's any continuity errors._

Darcy gets up late the next morning, makes herself a cup of coffee, and spends the next half-hour in contemplation of the night before. Her Dad’s gone golfing, which means that Darcy is alone in the house, with nothing to distract her from her thoughts.

Naturally, those are mostly full of Natasha. Darcy was tipsier than she realised last night, and Tipsy Darcy had given Natasha a lot of encouragement that Sober Darcy is now having second thoughts about. Does Darcy really want to be friends with Natasha again? Should she have spent so much time flirting with her? Is a soon-to-be-ex-assassin really someone Darcy wants in her life?

…the answer is probably yes.

“Dammit!” Darcy groans, and rests her head in hands.

She’s still in the kitchen when she hears the front door open and her Dad shout, “Darcy!”

He sounds harried and worried, and Darcy wonders what’s wrong.

“In the kitchen!” she yells back. A moment later her father appears in the doorway – with Natasha right behind him.

Darcy has a moment of mortification at the fact that she’s sitting in her pyjamas with her hair everywhere, while Natasha looks perfectly put-together in jeans and a leather jacket, but she doesn’t have long to think about that because her Dad blurts out, “Assassins! They’re after me!”

 _“What?”_ Darcy demands.

“Natasha saved my life!” her Dad says, and Darcy looks to Natasha for explanation.

Natasha, who is busy loading her handarm with ammunition.

“Natasha, what the hell–” Darcy starts.

“Get upstairs,” says Natasha, passing Darcy the gun, and pulling another one from underneath her jacket somewhere. “Go in the bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I say it’s okay, understand? Don’t talk, don’t make a sound, and _do not open that door,_ no matter what you hear.”

“Oh, God,” says Darcy, taking the gun. She desperately wants an explanation, but there clearly isn’t time. Her purse is still resting on the kitchen table where she left it last night, and Darcy grabs it and slings it over her shoulder.

“We should call the police!” Darcy’s Dad says, and Darcy takes him by the shoulder and steers him to the stairs.

“Right, I’ll get on that,” Darcy says. “Dad, upstairs. Now.”

Darcy’s Dad starts up the stairs, and Darcy sends one last glance Natasha’s way. Natasha is taking off her leather jacket, revealing yet more guns concealed in holsters. Natasha glances up and meets Darcy’s eyes, just for a moment: she looks determined and resolute, a look of intense focus in her expression.

Darcy looks back at the staircase in front of her, and hurries after her Dad.

They lock themselves in the bathroom, and Darcy pulls out her taser and her phone from her purse.

“Dad, if someone opens the door and I’ve run out of bullets, use this,” she says, handing him the taser. He takes it numbly. Darcy picks up her phone, and dials a number she memorised by heart a year ago.

It rings twice, and then a reassuringly calm voice says, “ _Coulson._ ”

“Agent Coulson, this is Darcy Lewis,” Darcy says, as quietly as she can while still being picked up by the phone’s speaker. “I’m in trouble.”

“ _What kind of trouble?”_ Coulson’s voice sharpens.

“There are assassins after my Dad,” Darcy says, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes darting nervously to the door. “They’re on their way. We’re hiding in the bathroom of my Dad’s house.”

“ _How many assassins?_ ” Coulson asks. Darcy looks to her Dad.

“Dad, how many assassins were there?” she asks, and gets no response. “ _Dad!_ ”

He visibly starts.

“Uh, I don’t know,” he says. “They were in a van. Natasha rescued me.”

“Dad says he doesn’t know, the assassins were in a van when Natasha rescued him,” Darcy says into the phone.

“ _Natasha?_ ” Coulson asks.

Darcy bites her lip, because this is possibly putting Natasha in danger, but on the other hand, if SHIELD shows up, she wants it clear that Natasha’s not one of the bad guys.

“Natasha Romanov,” says Darcy. “She’s an assassin, but she’s on our side! She’s a good friend!”

There’s a beat’s silence, and then:

“ _Natasha Romanov_ , _The Black Widow, is a good friend,_ ” Coulson says flatly.

“Yes! So I don’t want her hurt!” Darcy insists. “Coulson, please!” Her voice comes out high and shrill.

“ _Fine_ ,” says Coulson. “ _She won’t be harmed_. _Stay calm. We’re sending a team to your location right now.”_

There’s the sound of gunfire from downstairs, and Darcy tenses.

“I have to go,” she hisses, and hangs up before Coulson can reply. She only hopes he took her seriously, and that SHIELD gets here in time to save them all.

There’s a creak in the hallway outside, and then more gunfire, scarily close.

“Get in the bath!” Darcy whispers to her Dad, and both of them climb into the bath and crouch down, cringing at the sound of further gunshots. Darcy checks the gun Natasha gave to her make sure the safety is off. Darcy’s father clutches the taser Darcy gave him.

There’s a scream somewhere nearby, and Darcy jumps slightly. Her heart is pounding, and her ears are straining to hear every nearby sound.

Darcy doesn’t know how long she spends in the bath, crouched down next to her Dad, while gunshots ring through the air, but suddenly the house goes quiet. Darcy stays frozen, her breathing loud in the sudden silence, waiting for some kind of sign one way or another.

There’s a creak in the hallway, and then a light rap on the door. Darcy straightens her spine, puts her shoulders back, and aims her gun at the door.

But a voice speaks, and it’s Natasha.

“It’s me,” she says, and she sounds exhausted. Darcy instantly slumps, and feels an urge to laugh hysterically. She bites it back.

“It’s safe,” Natasha adds. “You can open the door. Do you have a first aid kit in there?”

Darcy puts down the gun, and crosses the room to the door. She opens it a crack, and finds herself regarded by a familiar looking eye. She opens the door all the way to let Natasha in.

Natasha limps over to the bath and sits on the edge. There’s still a gun in her hand, but most of her other weapons are gone. Her shoulder is bleeding, and the limp means that her leg is probably injured as well.

Darcy shuts and locks the door again, just in case, and hurries to get the first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet.

“So,” she says, as she opens the first aid kit, “I don’t want to sound unreasonable, but: _assassins, why?”_

Natasha laughs faintly, looking weary. Her hair is dishevelled, and she reaches up to brush it out of her face.

“Well, first of all, it turns out your dad was my last job,” she says wryly.

“ _What?”_

“Calm down,” says Natasha. “Obviously I wasn’t going to go through with it. But apparently someone tipped off my employer about our relationship, because they hired another group to finish the job, and take me out as well.”

She winces as Darcy peels back her shirt to expose the bleeding hole in her shoulder. It’s only shallow, but bleeding quite a lot.

Darcy dresses the wound in silence. Natasha watches her without saying a word. Darcy’s Dad is still crouched in the bath, looking dazed, but Darcy is pretty sure he’ll be okay once the shock wears off.

Both Darcy and Natasha tense as they hear booted footsteps, Natasha raising the hand with the gun in it, Darcy darting sideways to pick up her own dropped weapon.

The footsteps stop in the hallway, and a voice says loudly, “Agent Barton of SHIELD. Miss Lewis, are you okay?”

“Oh, thank God,” says Darcy, but Natasha’s face is the picture of incredulity as she goes, “ _Clint?_ ”

There’s a sheepish silence on the other side of the door, before Barton says, “Hey, Nat.”

“You’re _SHIELD?_ ” Natasha demands, her expression vacillating between disbelief and fury.

“For like, six months now?” Barton sounds apologetic. “You know I couldn’t tell you.”

Natasha purses her lips, looking angry. Darcy nudges her.

“Hey,” Darcy says. “You know this guy?”

“We’re friends,” Natasha says, her voice clipped.

“And believe me, keeping it a secret from SHIELD was hard,” Barton agrees. “But I didn’t give them anything on you, I swear.”

Natasha looks slightly less pissed.

“I believe you,” she says.

“Agent Coulson,” Barton suddenly says, his voice losing all expression.

“Agent Barton,” says Coulson’s steady voice from outside the door.

“I’ve located Miss Lewis, sir,” says Barton, his voice carefully blank.

“And her father and Ms Romanov?” asks Coulson.

“They’re in here too!” Darcy calls.

“If you would open the door,” Coulson starts, so Darcy unlocks the door and opens it, gun still in her hand.

Coulson looks at Darcy’s Dad, still in the bath, Natasha sitting on the edge of it looking a bleeding mess, and Darcy, who probably looks as shaken as she feels.

Coulson turns to Natasha.

“Ms Romanov,” he says blandly. “SHIELD has followed your career for some time.”

“I’m retiring,” says Natasha flatly, watching him with suspicious eyes.

“Are you sure?” Coulson says. “SHIELD could use someone with your skills.”

“Okay, hold up,” Darcy declares. “Can you just give us like, five minutes before you give her the recruitment speech?”

Coulson inclines his head, and when Darcy glares at him pointedly, steps out of the bathroom. Darcy closes the door.

She and Natasha look at each other.

“You know, I was kind of hoping to ask you out today,” said Natasha. “I didn’t expect this.”

“You were going to ask me out?” Darcy asks. Her voice is a little trembly after everything that’s happened, but still manages to sound hopeful. Natasha picks up on it.

“Darcy,” she says, and starts smiling a bit, “will you go out with me?”

“Well, she has my blessing,” says Darcy’s Dad, because interjecting at inopportune moments is his thing. Darcy and Natasha pretend he’s not there.

“Yes!” says Darcy. “I mean, you just saved my life. If that doesn’t deserve a date, what does?”

Natasha is smiling. Darcy smiles back.

“Are you done?” asks Coulson through the door.

“Since I’m not into making out in front of my Dad, yeah, I think we’re done for now,” says Darcy, and Natasha snorts.

Coulson opens the door.

“I may have a slight problem with my last employer,” Natasha tells him.

“We’ll take care of it,” Coulson promises.

Natasha looks at Darcy.

“If you want to join SHIELD, that’s up to you,” Darcy says.

“Give me your recruitment pitch,” Natasha says thoughtfully, and Coulson does.

* * *

It turns out that Clint Barton is the friend who was in town watching Natasha’s back, while on leave from SHIELD. He’d been busy dealing with a different assassin in town who was after Natasha, and it was only when he got a call from Coulson (who knew he was in the area) that he knew that he needed to be at Darcy’s Dad’s house, arriving just after the shootout finished. Coulson and his team flew in on a quinjet, which is how they got there so fast. Meanwhile, the federal agents who had been following Natasha called in for backup when they realised what was going on, which arrived forty-five minutes after SHIELD.

The whole thing takes hours to sort out, especially after the feds turn up – apparently there’s a fight over jurisdiction, FBI vs SHIELD, which Darcy is fortunately oblivious to as she’s sitting in the kitchen at the time, nursing a hot cocoa while staring between Natasha and Barton. Natasha seems to have forgiven Barton for not telling her he was part of SHIELD; possibly it was watching Coulson tell him off when the senior agent realised that Barton and Natasha knew each other. Whatever the reason, the two of them are leaning on each other’s chairs, each of them with a hot cocoa in front of them.

“So,” says Barton, looking at Darcy. “You’re The Girl.”

Darcy can hear the capital letters. She blinks.

“Excuse me?”

Barton smirks.

“The girl Nat was all hung up on,” he clarifies, and winces slightly as Natasha punches him in the arm.

“Barton, shut up,” Natasha orders.

“No, no, tell me more,” says Darcy, looking between the two of them. “What do you mean, the girl Natasha was all hung up on?”

“I mean Natasha has a giant thing for you, apparently since high school,” Barton explains, and watches Natasha warily, like he’s waiting for her to lash out again. “She came to me for _advice_. I’ve never seen her so flustered before.”

“You were flustered?” Darcy asks, because at no point in the last twenty four hours has Natasha seemed like anything less than a person who has all her shit together.

Natasha shrugs.

“I only act like I’m imperturbable,” she says.

Darcy’s Dad clears his throat, and everyone’s head swivels towards him.

“You’re an assassin?” he asks Natasha, like the events of the last hour or two have only just made it into his brain. Natasha nods, watching him warily.

Darcy’s Dad sighs.

“Well, at least you’ll have someone who knows how to protect you,” he tells Darcy.

“Thanks, I think?” Darcy says. She looks back at Natasha. “So, you’re going to be a SHIELD goon.”

“Apparently,” says Natasha.

“You know they all go around wearing catsuits, right?” Darcy says, and Barton starts laughing.

“I’ll survive somehow,” says Natasha. She reaches out to take Darcy’s hand where it’s resting on the table. “I’ll be stationed in New York, so expect a lot of visits.”

Darcy smiles, and squeezes Natasha’s hand gently.

“I’ll hold you to that, she says.

Natasha smiles, and Darcy – in spite of everything that’s happened today – smiles back.


End file.
